I was soaked through, shivering with cold.
The farther I walked, the more wronged I felt.
Not long ago, Charity had run a fever.
The moment Jim heard, he'd been frantic.
He'd charged out into the pouring rain in the middle of the night, gone to Charity's place, carried her on his back all the way to the hospital.
Waited on her hand and foot, sat with her the whole night through.
And now? Would he come and take care of me?
I opened our chat.
I was still hesitating over whether to tell him I was pregnant.
Then a voice message came in from Charity.
"Since Jim worked so hard to cheer me up today, I'll do him the favor of staying for dinner."
"We won't be coming back tonight. Take care of yourself, get some rest."
At the end of the message, Jim's voice cut in, irritated.
"Why are you even telling her all this? We're not even married yet and she throws fits all day long. I can't keep indulging a nasty habit like that."
I hadn't sent my message yet.
But the answer was already plain.
Jim wasn't coming.
The hurt surged up again, and the words came out on their own.
"Doctor, you don't need to write the prescription."
"This baby. I don't want it."
This relationship. This man.
I didn't want them either.
The doctor frowned.
"Have you thought this through?"
"You're not in good health. If you terminate this pregnancy, it may be very hard for you to conceive again."
He seemed to read the conflict in my face, and he sighed.
"It's normal for young couples to quarrel. Don't gamble with something this important."
"You two clearly care for each other. Go home, give it some time, and come back once you're sure."
I nodded.
I took the medicine he prescribed and walked back in a daze.
It took forever to get an Uber.
By the time I got home, I was lightheaded with hunger.
I saw a bowl of porridge on the table.
Without thinking, I picked it up.
I'd barely taken one bite when Jim frowned and slapped my hand.
"Mary, what's gotten into you, scrounging like this?"
"That's for Charity. Her period's almost due and she's not feeling well."
"If you want something to eat, order your own takeout."
Charity came out of the bathroom right behind him.
Toweling her hair, she shot Jim a glare.
"You awful jerk, picking on Mary again."
"It's just a bowl of porridge. If Mary wants it, let her have it."
Jim quickly untied his apron and went to her side.
He took the hairdryer like he'd done it a hundred times and started drying her hair.
"It's not about the porridge. It's that I can't keep spoiling her."
"There was food earlier and she wouldn't eat. Now she comes back and tries to snatch things from you. There's no excuse for that."
"If she's got the nerve to give me attitude, then she can go hungry. A few empty stomachs and she'll learn her lesson."
A while back, when Charity's reconciliation with her ex fell through, she couldn't eat.
I ordered takeout for her a few times, and she threw every bit of it back out.
Jim, afraid her body couldn't take it, kept finding new things to bring her.
Trendy designer cakes. West End bagels.
Charity only had to post on her feed that she felt like a New York steak dinner.
And Jim would take time off, ride the bullet train, and bring it back for her.
Now it was me.
And all I got was, "Then she can keep going hungry."
The back of my hand had gone red from the slap.
And my heart had gone cold all the way through.
I looked at the two of them and couldn't hold it in.
"Jim, which one of us is actually your girlfriend?"
Jim froze for a second.
Without thinking, he let go of the hand resting on Charity's shoulder.
But he recovered fast, and put on that displeased look again.
"Mary, are you out of your mind?"
"Charity is your best friend."
